


The Value of a Good Apology

by kosmickway (KMDWriterGrl)



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/kosmickway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Toby monumentally screw up, he apologizes to CJ in a big way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Value of a Good Apology

When Toby walked into CJ’s office and shut the door, he nearly ate his own red rubber ball, the one he constantly threw against the wall when he was stressed or angry. Luckily he was able to duck and the ball hit the door where his head had been a moment before. For someone who regularly broke windows when passing a basketball, CJ had remarkably good aim.   
  
“What the hell, CJ?” he sputtered, rising cautiously, hoping she hadn’t found the tennis balls that he kept in his bottom desk drawer.  
  
“That’s a great question, one I should be asking you. So here it is—what the hell, Toby?”  
  
“What the hell … what? I have no idea what I’ve done to warrant a ball in the face but it must have been a doozy.”  
  
“You forgot?!” CJ reached into her desk drawer, looking for something else to throw. The only thing she found was a bunch of pens, which she proceeded to launch at him like ballistic missiles. “You colossal jackass!”  
  
Toby dodged the first three pens but the next caught him in the chest. He managed to catch it and was tempted to send it hurling back towards her.   
  
“Jesus, CJ! Will you stop throwing stuff at my head and just tell me what I did wrong?”  
  
CJ rose to her entire six feet—a sight that normally didn’t faze him a bit but today seemed very ominous indeed. “What happened yesterday at work?”  
  
“We reviewed the budget for what felt like 700 hours. Sam, Josh, and I went out for a drink afterward so that we stopped seeing numbers hanging over each other’s heads.”  
  
“So in the midst of having drinks with the guys, it didn’t occur to you that you’d all ready made plans?”  
  
“I don’t think I did--” Then it dawned on him and he buried his face in his palm. “Oh, shit.”  
  
“Remember now?” CJ reached into her drawer and pulled out another pen, readying it for launch. “My best friend Veronica couldn’t keep our reservations for dinner so you said you’d go in her place.”  
  
Toby grimaced. This was going to be bad.   
  
“And you know what makes it worse?” CJ continued, building up a full head of steam.  
  
“It was your birthday dinner,” Toby mumbled.   
  
“Sorry, didn’t quite hear you. What was it?”  
  
“Your birthday dinner,” Toby said louder. Make that fantastically bad.  
  
“At which restaurant?”  
  
“Pepperoncini’s.”  
  
“And that matters because?”  
  
“The wait for reservations is running at about eight weeks.” Upgrade that to epically bad.  
  
“So I not only got stood up _by my best friend_ , I got stood up _on my birthday_ and didn’t get to go to the restaurant that Veronica went to the trouble to get reservations for _three months_ ago.”  
  
“CJ, I am so sorry,” Toby started, knowing that there was no way an apology was even going to begin to cover it.   
  
“Did I mention that I waited for three hours for you to call or text me? Or that by the time I decided to stop waiting for you and went to the restaurant they’d all ready given away my table because I was late for the reservation? I didn’t even get to eat at Pepperocinis alone, never mind how pathetic that would have looked! I got to come home and order Chinese food and watch a movie by myself.”   
  
She reached for the crystal paper weight on her desk, apparently ready to launch it at his head. He made a grab for it, not entirely sure he could duck it, considering that her aim seemed to have improved considerably with anger. They scuffled for a moment, Toby trying to get the paperweight out of her hands, CJ trying to hold on to it.   
  
He wasn’t sure how the paperweight fell or who had their hands on it when it did. There was a thud as the beautiful clear orb fell to the carpet and broke into two jagged pieces. They both stopped and stared at it.   
  
“CJ,” he started, bending to pick up the pieces.   
  
“Get out.”   
  
“CJ, c’mon—“  
  
“Toby.” Her eyes were filled with angry tears. “Leave.”  
  
He nodded and backed out of the room, holding one half of the paperweight in his hands. It was only when he’d closed the door behind him that he heard the other half shatter as she threw it against the door.   
  
Carol didn’t even look up from her work but he could see a slight smirk twisting her lips. “Flowers work best.”  
  
Toby sighed. “I don’t think flowers are going to even begin to cover it.”  
  
***  
CJ fumed through the rest of her day. It wasn’t so much the fact that she’d missed dinner. It wasn’t even that Toby had forgotten her birthday. It was that he apparently had so little concern or consideration for her. Normally, he had a memory like an elephant—he could remember every tie he wore for the past month, every slip-up in every briefing, every cut phrase and comma splice in a speech. How had he managed to forget plans that they’d made only eight hours previously? The fact that he hadn’t remembered until this morning made her even angrier. She obviously meant so little to him that he couldn’t even remember that he had screwed up.   
  
She didn’t speak to Toby the rest of the day. She dealt with Sam when she had briefings, reported to Leo when she needed to, and stayed in her office for everything else, occasionally delegating to Carol but mostly doing everything herself, trying to lose herself in her work.   
  
Even though CJ never put much faith in the thoughtfulness of men, part of her secretly hoped for a flower arrangement from Toby, an “I’m sorry” that, even if it didn’t begin to heal the hurt, would at least show that he truly regretted what happened last night. But the day progressed and no one knocked on her door to deliver a vase or a basket. By the time she was ready to leave that night, she was more sad than angry. Apparently she knew where she stood with Toby.   
  
She bid goodnight to the security guards, grumpy all over again when she noted that everyone else had all ready left and not bothered to come say good night. Before she was even ten steps out of the front doors, a pair of hands grabbed her upper arms. She started to scream but before she could a hand clapped over her mouth and a familiar voice whispered, “CJ, don’t panic. Just come with me.”   
  
CJ twisted to see who had her by the arms. It was Charlie, wearing a dark blue suit, considerably more dressed up than he normally was for work. He steered her in the direction of the turn-around where the Presidential motorcade lined up when Bartlett was slated to make a public appearance. A limo was waiting there, its door open.   
  
Charlie ushered her inside, motioned for the chauffeur to close the door, and tapped on the partition to let the driver know they were ready.   
  
“Charlie, where are we going?”  
  
“I was just told to come get you. There was a late night event that the President would like you to attend.”   
  
CJ frowned, perplexed. “What event? Why didn’t I hear anything about this?”  
  
Charlie shrugged helplessly. “I’m just following orders, CJ.”  
  
“I’d better freshen up then.” CJ pulled out her cosmetics bag, switched on the overhead light, and began to re-apply her make-up, all the while wracking her brain to figure out where the hell they could possibly be going.   
  
The limo pulled up to a curb and the door opened. CJ slid out and took a good look at where they were.   
  
Pepperoncini’s. CJ groaned. What a slap in the face.   
  
“Charlie, what are we doing here? What kind of event could possibly be going on at nearly nine o’clock?”  
  
Charlie shrugged again and held open the door for her.   
  
Abby Bartlett met her in the lobby holding a garment bag from Bergdorf’s. “CJ, glad you could make it.”  
  
“I don’t think I really had a choice. Charlie basically kidnapped me.”  
  
“Well, this was all sort of last minute. Come on, I’ll help you change.”  
  
The dress was strapless, midnight blue with a filmy underskirt of ice blue silk. The bodice, skirt, and hem were studded with tiny sparkles that shimmered when she moved. It was the most gorgeous dress she'd ever worn and she wondered idly if it was only a rental for the evening. She'd die if she had to give it back.   
  
“Wait till you see the shoes,” Abby said. “They’re to die for.”   
  
CJ stepped out of the restroom stall and nearly gasped at the shoes the First Lady held out to her. They were the closest approximation to glass slippers she’d ever seen. They were made of clear flexible plastic set atop a silver base and studded with rhinestones. Abby smiled as CJ put the shoes on, then stood back to let the First Lady look at her.   
  
“Fantastic. Come on.”  
  
“Wait, I don’t even know what this event is! Who’s it for? Is the President speaking? Is there press?”  
  
Abby took her firmly by the elbow. “You’ll see.”  
  
They stepped into the dining room and CJ covered her mouth in shock. Several tables had been pushed together in the middle of the room and were covered in white table clothes, china, silver, and champagne flutes. An arch of silver and white balloons and streamers was centered over the table. Vases of roses in every color—red, white, pink, yellow, and even purple—were placed strategically around the table. Jazz was playing in the background. Arrayed around the table were all of her friends, the men in tuxes, Donna, Margaret, and Carol in long dresses. There was a collective shout of “happy birthday” and a round of applause when she appeared.  
  
Abby squeezed her arm then tactfully walked back to the group as Toby approached with a corsage of white roses in his hand.   
  
“Oh my god, Toby,” she murmured. “Oh my GOD!”  
  
He smiled and held out the corsage. “May I?”  
  
“Yeah, of course—“ She held out her hand, swallowing hard. “Toby, how the hell did you manage this?”  
  
Toby grinned. “Threw myself at the mercy of the President. He knows the value of a good apology.”   
  
“But to get this place at the last minute--”  
  
“When the leader of the free world wants to eat at your restaurant, you not only clear it, you make it special. As for the rest … I had some help.”  
  
CJ felt tears rising in her eyes, too overwhelmed to speak. “I never expected--”  
  
“I know you didn’t. But you’re right—I was a complete jackass. I’m just hoping this makes up for it.” He finished tying the corsage onto her wrist and then simply held her hand. “I’m sorry, Claudia. I really am.”  
  
“I—Oh god, I don’t even know what to say!”  
  
“Well, ‘I forgive you, Toby’ would be a REALLY good start,” Toby prompted, squeezing her fingers and grinning.   
  
“Of course,” she breathed. “Yes. You’re forgiven. Of course you’re forgiven.”  
  
A smile spread across his face. “Good. So I don’t have to fear for my life?”  
  
“Not tonight anyway.” She laid a hand on his cheek and leaned in, her lips brushing his in a kiss that just might get decidedly more serious as the evening progressed and the champagne flowed. “Ask me again in the morning.”  
  
END.


End file.
